The Time of The Detective
by ShezzaSherlock
Summary: Young Sherlock Holmes had questioned the mysterious vanishing blue box and the man who never seemed to age but these questions were thrown away long ago. For it was impossible, as Mycroft had so often reminded him. To live hundreds of years? A blue box that could disappear? Preposterous! But with the emergence of a stone-cold deadly enemy, the impossible might just seem possible.
1. An Old Case

Co Author: muserofasgard

_"I can't make sense of this! It's all to nebulous!"_

The apartment was perfectly untouched, even the dust remained undisturbed. Locks attached and windows solid showing no signs of forced entry and yet somehow a couple vanished from their homes. The two cups of cold tea sitting sadly on the table with a small plate of now-stale biscuits seperating them. Outside a light mist was falling from the sky, the kind of rain that leaves droplets clinging to your clothes. This had been happening for days now but that's nothing new in London. Rain was second nature to the usual Briton. What was new was the kidnappings. All over London people, young and old, were mysteriously vanishing, never to be seen again. No bodies found, it was as if they were gone off the face of the Earth. Lestrade never really got involved in kidnapping, his division was homicide, yet after the report of an eight kidnapping - this time of a young couple, D.I. Lestrade was called in. Man and woman, both in their late-twenties with no children. Both lived a highly sophisticated lifestyle with no apparent worries financially with the husband being a doctor and the wife having worked for Scotland Yard. Lestrade never knew her personally but could recognise her face. He remembered admiring her unrelenting ambition and intelligence, convinced there was a bright life ahead of her and yet shes gone now. Her and her husband disappeared together. Completely baffled by the situation he rang Sherlock for help.

The consulting detective glared at the shards of glass on the floor.  
"Sherlock relax." Sherlock ignored his friend John behind him. His main focus was on the unusual scene surrounding him.  
"It makes no sense. The place is locked with the only thing unusual is this useless broken lamp!"  
John straightened up, releasing a loud sigh. He needed Sherlock to calm down and concentrate. Half heartily he drew out a cigarette and waved it in Sherlock's face. Sherlock still surveying the room takes the cigarette from John's hand and placed it smartly in his mouth before lighting it. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the nicotine, closing his eyes allowing the drug to take effect. John rolled his eyes, three weeks of cold turkey gone to waste but he knew Sherlock needed the kick to get him going. Sherlock's eyes suddenly shot open..  
"John don't move!" Sherlock dove straight to the wooden floor, his magnifying glass out.  
"What is it?" asked John and Lestrade in unison. Sherlock followed the traces from the lamp. The bulb had exploded, the lamp was still live, power surging through it. The real clue laid a foot away from the it.  
"Dust." replied Sherlock simply. He scooped up traces of the grey matter and stored it in a petri dish.  
"What about the dust?" questioned John. The floor appeared the same to John but not for the keen-eyed detective.  
"It's darker than the rest, most likely from our serial kidnapper!" Straightening up she shot John a knowing smile. "Now come on we need to go to St. Bart's!" With those word Sherlock dashed out of the room followed by his loyal companion.

In the morgue, there was a light tapping sound as Sherlock's fingers drummed the workbench. In a barely audible breath he began muttering as he peered through the lens of a microscope. Leaving Sherlock to think, John disappeared to the gift shop to buy himself some snacks. The small sound of timid footsteps was registered by Sherlock as he prepared himself for the inevitable act of socialising.  
"Is this over the kidnappings?" came the voice of Molly Hooper. "I was talking to Greg and I was wonder if you needed help-"  
"Yes could you determine the pH of the substance?" interrupted Sherlock not taking his eyes off the lens.  
"Yeah, sure." mumbled Molly pulling out some equipment.  
Meanwhile, John was deciding whether to bother buying Sherlock something to eat, but after several minutes of staring at the multicoloured wrappings he decided against. Knowing the mans twisted logic, Sherlock would point-blank refuse to eat during a case no matter how hungry he was. Finally buying a snack for himself and Molly, for he assumed she would show up, he returned to the lab. There she was bustling about helping Sherlock. He couldn't help but admire her sincere loyalty. Giving her a friendly smile, he handed the snack over to Molly. Molly briefly thanked John before setting the snack aside for later. Equipment laid used around the workbench while a large pile of notes had grown next to Sherlock. John sat in the chair and began to watch Sherlock work. He never grew tired of it, watching Sherlock perform. Especially the grande finale when Sherlock discovers the truth of their mystery. Life was never boring with Sherlock Holmes.  
"Impossible!" shouted Sherlock at the computer screen causing poor Molly to jump. John peered over Sherlock's shoulder to read the black word 'Error' flashing on the screen.  
"What's wrong?" asked John.  
"It's saying that this matter doesn't exist! It's as if it's not from this world but that simply imposs-" Sherlock froze mid-speech and a large smile spreads across his face. "Yes this is brilliant, marvelous!"  
John and Molly both shot him a confused look.  
"Oh don't you see. Ah-ha Mycroft was wrong, I knew it!" Only Sherlock would find an exit at a dead end.  
"Sherlock care to fill us in?"  
"I'll explain in a cab we have to move, now!" Sherlock darted out the door leaving John behind to thank Molly and apologise for the mess.

"Baker Street. And quickly!" demanded Sherlock as soon as he sat in the cab. The cabby looked up and recognised his passenger, giving a brief nod her speeds down the road. The mist had turned into rain now as it battered against the windows. Sherlock gazed at the raindrops running across the glass until John interrupts his train of thought.  
"So Sherlock what's happening? Why are we going home?"  
"John, when I was younger I noticed something. There was a man who appeared in photos from all over the world and from different times. A man who never aged. Now we could just say that they are just look similar and it's a coincidence but there's no such thing as coincidence. My younger self confided in Mycroft about this but he shot me down saying it was impossible. I foolishly believed him but now another impossible event has occurred and I believe it is linked to this mysterious man somehow."  
"You can't be serious? You're not actually suggesting that this has something to do with time travel?"  
"I'm not sure, all I know is there's link between the man and the kidnappings."


	2. A Call From The Queen

There was a faint sound of buzzing coming from Sherlock's pocket. He glanced at the caller I.D. before reluctantly answering the phone.  
"What?" he demanded annoyed. After a moment of agonising silence for John, Sherlock replied to the unknown caller.  
"Of course I'm aware." Another brief silence.  
"I don't care who, all I care is-" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I don't care if they're an important member of Parliament, I won't go. I'm already busy with a case so stop bothering me."  
John waited patiently for Sherlock to finished his conversation.  
"Come if you like I won't be ready." He angrily hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.  
"What that Mycroft?" asked John. Only two people would ring Sherlock about a case over Parliament but only one annoyed Sherlock greatly.  
"Yes, apparently an 'important' member of Parliament has fallen victim to our kidnapper and Mycroft wants me involved. He says he'll be over to collect us shortly."

The taxi arrived to the front door of 221b. Sherlock quickly paid the cabbie and exited the cab into the rain. Water began to run the the street in small streams. John complained about his feet getting wet before running up to the door and unlocking it. Before either man took a step inside Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh.  
"How is he here already?!" he declared marching up the stairs, shaking the water out of his hair.  
"What?" asked John removing his coat before following Sherlock up the stairs.  
"His footprints on the stairs." replied Sherlock swinging open the door to see Mycroft sitting in Sherlock's chair accepting a cup of tea from Mrs Hudson.  
"Now Sherlock I expected you to deduct my arrival before you entered the building." said Mycroft with a taking a sip of his tea before pulling a face of disgust and discretely setting the cup down beside him.  
"Should of known the car outside was one of yours." responded Sherlock turning his attention to the wall behind his brother. John peered out the window to see a black car parked across the street.  
"Yes well since you didn't accept my request on the phone I decided to ask you personally."  
"And now I can deny the request, personally. Buh-bye" Sherlock waved his hand towards the door.  
"I know you're already investigating the disappearings." said Mycroft standing up. Sherlock remained near the door, holding it open for him to leave.  
"Sherlock I'm not leaving until you inform me." said Mycroft firmly.  
"It's hardly of your concern." began Sherlock childishly.  
"Sherlock just tell him." moaned John, his face in his hands. The rival between the brothers was honestly pathetic in John's view. It was now getting in the way of saving people and John wasn't in the humor for wasting time.

Mrs. Hudson, at this stage, not wanting to be involved in another argument had left the room. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at this while Sherlock shot John a dangerous look. John couldn't care about the look Sherlock was throwing at him, John always had a strong belief in Sherlock and his theories.  
"If you don't tell him I will." John warned. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother and stubbornly stayed near the door.  
John sighed, "Fine so." He took a deep breath. "Sherlock believes that there's this man, who never ages and is somehow involved in the kidnappings."  
Mycroft laughed in response. He was suddenly reminded of a much younger Sherlock presenting him with his so called evidence of this 'time traveling man'.  
"Sherlock I thought we settled this years ago. There is no such thing as-" A strange noise cut him off. All three of them faced the kitchen in surprise. There a blue police box was slowly materialising into view, creating a wooshing noise as it became more transparent. The box looked ancient and brand new at the same time and was painted in a brilliant blue. A light-bulb on top of it stopped flashing as if the box had landed. Sherlock began to cautiously approach the box in front of them.  
"Sherlock be careful." whispered John in a worried tone. Sherlock gave John a brief nod in compliance and slowly streched his hand out to the doors. Before his skin could touch the wood the doors swung open and a man's head wearing a fez popped out.  
"Oh hello, I got the right place this time, yes? Gave your neighbours an awful fright I'm afraid. Sorry about that."  
"Who are you?" asked John in awe, a pang of jealously sprung in Sherlock. This man suddenly appears and now John is amazed at him instead and after Sherlock's waiting and waiting John was the first to talk to him. Sherlock temporarily pushed aside his envy and instead focused on the phenomenon in front of him.  
"Oh sorry, John, Sherlock, _I'm the Doctor_."


End file.
